


Unequal Footing

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Voidsinger [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: Sinnlyra Voidsinger has an upsetting time at the market and is consoled by one of her friends.
Series: Voidsinger [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796173
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Unequal Footing

**Author's Note:**

> Sevarith Moonsorrow belongs to @Vaethryn on Twitter. You can find him and her work here: https://twitter.com/vaethryn
> 
> This story is being told via a combination of in game role playing and writing by me in collaboration with Vae.

The marketplace was more crowded than Lyra had expected. She stood at one of the entrances to the Trade District and watched, frozen with indecision, as the press of bodies surged past her. She had known such a nice day would bring out the population of Stormwind, but hadn’t prepared herself for the utter chaos that met her gaze when she finally arrived. A brisk breeze from off the ocean sent clothing and banners flitting through the air, even as it tugged at the hood of her cloak, threatening to reveal her face. She held it tight to her skin with one hand and clutched her basket tighter to her body with the other, steeling herself to brave the throng to purchase what she needed for the day. A beggar tugged her sleeve, startling her, asking for a spare coin. She wordlessly handed him a few silver, accepting his thanks with a shaky smile, and turned back to the crowd.

Her courage already failing, she stepped out of the shadows and into the fray.

Just get what you need and get out, Lyra, she thought to herself as the breeze frisked her hood from her face as she began searching for the produce and meat vendors. Several people around her stopped and stared at the wreckage of her eye and cheek, making her feel exposed. She swallowed hard and carefully pulled the hood back over her hair, holding it tight to her skin in an effort to preserve her dignity. A man gave her a tentative smile that she couldn’t return as she walked quickly away from the knot of people that had seen her face. She reached the first stall with a feeling of relief, the vendor extolling the virtues of his fresh produce to the masses. The worgen tipped her a wink, pointing towards several items he knew would interest her, all while encouraging others to come sample his wares. She made her selections quickly, ignoring the whispers that seemed to follow her like a cloud. When the vendor turned to tally her total, she didn’t even bother to haggle, just paid the full price and turned to leave. He frowned, about to argue, but thought better of it at the sight of her face. He bowed graciously, then turned to his next customer, Lyra already clearly forgotten in the haze of making a profit.

Lyra turned away, heading toward the next vendor with trepidation. She was so focused on her goal that she nearly missed the shadow that seemed to peel away from the wall to follow her before it blended back into the crowd. She unclipped her coin purse and slid it down into the produce, frowning where she last saw the shadow. Just as she did, a gust of wind once again caught her hood, pushing her hair away from her face. Too late did she notice she was standing in front of a pair of young noblewomen, their glittering jewelry and well made clothing setting them apart from the rest of the market. One of the young women snapped her fan open, whispering loudly behind it.

“Did you see her face?” Her friend tittered, not even hiding her disgust behind a politely placed hand. Lyra stood there silently, not acknowledging them as she finished her task, keeping her face a mask of indifference. 

“A pity, she would be pretty otherwise.” One of their guards, as scarred in the face as Lyra herself, gave her a look ladened with pity that made a lump form in her throat. She looked down, slowly raising the hood once again, blinking back tears as she walked away. The heckling laughter of the girls followed her on the breeze as she cut through the crowd to the butcher.

“Ugh, some people don’t belong in polite society.”

“These void elves get odder by the day.”

She silently pointed to her selections from the butcher behind the counter, holding her cloak up to the side of her face, obscuring the scar and her eye from view. A pair of her brethren passed her walking confidently as if they owned the world around them. She envied them as she accepted the paper wrapped package tied neatly with butcher’s twine. They appeared almost normal compared to her, if one ignored the tentacles that sprouted from their hair. She, at least, was able to hide her own in her long tresses. A small mercy, she thought bitterly, considering the rest of the corruption that riddled her body.

A breath of strange air passed her shoulder, making her snap to attention. The hiss was not wind, but a sound of someone stealthed passing. She laid a protective arm over her basket and decided to head home, followed by the haunting sound of laughter on the wind. She could not tell if the whispers were from the void, or from the crowd. No longer bothering to be polite, she shouldered her way through the throng, trying desperately to ignore the startled and angry looks she received. A priest made a symbol against evil as she passed, making her flinch, her mask of collected calm nearly breaking under the strain. 

Flickers of shadow out of the corner of her eyes made her breath hitch in her chest. Not here, not now, she thought, fearing an episode. It was bad enough people had seen her face, let alone what happened when the void fully took her into the abyss. She hurried from the district, crossing bridges as if they burned behind her. She was breathing heavily when she finally reached her front stoop, not even noticing the black thread that was tied on the handle as she burst through the doorway into the safe confines of her home. So distracted by her emotions as she was, she nearly mowed down the night elf standing in the middle of the room who regarded her with his arms crossed from his superior height.

“Lyra.” He caught her by the arms, frowning at her when she swung at him, startled. Her eyes were wild under her hood, her breathing ragged with emotions when she finally processed the identity of the person that had invaded her home. She pulled her next punch, though he had already grabbed her clenched fist in one large hand. “Knock that shit off.”

“Let go of me, Sev.” She hissed, indignant that someone had caught her at such a vulnerable time. He released her, pulling the mask from over his mouth and nose, revealing the rest of his face. She ripped the cloak from her body and threw it in a corner in a heap, her teeth gritted. “I knew you were following me. You’ll get stabbed if you aren’t careful.”

“Nah.” He slid the basket from her arm with one hand before she could throw it. She protested, but he silenced her with a cutting look. “Sit.”

“I am not a dog for you to order around, and I do not want to sit.” She glared at him, yanking her hair back from her face so hard she tore several strands away in her fingers. The pain did nothing to calm her anger, only adding fuel to the already flaming fire in her chest. Sev merely looked at her, his golden eyes narrowed with speculation as he held her shopping basket in his large hands.

“What’s chewin’ your ass?” 

“None of your business.” A distant part of her felt terrible for treating him in such a manner, but he offered an easy target. He was there, he didn’t seem to care, and he had startled her in an already fragile state of mind. He raised an eyebrow and set aside her shopping, frowning at her. Though he towered over her by several feet, she didn’t fear him. She had seen the softer side of the rogue with his lover too many times to fear him. She was well aware of how dangerous he could be, but never dreamed he’d use those abilities on her. She scowled at him until he shrugged and began putting the food away. Still off balance, but accepting his presence, Lyra began to pace, the tears that threatened earlier pouring down her cheeks. She swiped angrily at them as she spoke.

“I mind my own business, and try to keep my face hidden from the world. I try to not startle the normal people, with their normal lives, and their normal faces. And yet every time I leave my own home, I am judged. The scorn, the disdain. Don’t think I don’t see it each time my face is revealed to the world. I see the fear in their faces, hear the whispers in the wind. I see them making signs against evil toward me.” She gripped her arms so tightly the skin under her fingers began to bruise. The sound of a match being struck followed by the acrid scent of cigarette smoke, telling her he had finished putting her groceries away, though she still could not meet his eyes.

“I did not choose this life. It was forced upon me, and yet instead of understanding and compassion, I am met with fear and mistrust.” She whirled, turning to face him, her face a mask of fury and pain. He leaned against the counter, a lit cigarette in his fingers. He raised it to his lips, taking a drag, the ember glowing like his eyes as he gestured silently for her to continue. “I create beautiful things for beautiful people who parade around to their beautiful friends, and yet the second I am seen, I am met with… Ugh!”

The tears of frustration cooled on her face, giving way to grief. She grabbed a pillow from the couch, throwing it across the room. Sev didn’t even flinch, just flicked the ash from his cigarette into the sink as he regarded her quietly. 

“I am good enough when they wish for my services, but never good enough to speak to without ridicule, even in a professional setting. No one will ever want me for me and that hurts. By all of the gods it hurts so much.” She perched lightly on the edge of the couch, nearly doubled over with the weight of her grief. Out of the corner of one tear filled eye, she watched as Sev crushed out his cigarette and rinsed the ash down the drain. 

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Her head snapped toward him with disbelief. He tossed the cold butt of his cigarette into the trash, pulling out the pack to grab another one. It dangled from his lips as he looked at her from over the match he struck to light it, mumbling,

“All of that was bullshit, Lyra.” He glared at her, daring her to argue as he waved the match so the flames sputtered out. Her jaw dropped before she was consumed once more with fury. Hadn’t he just witnessed the way she was treated in the market?

“No it isn't! You’ve seen the way they treat me!” She rose, stalking to him, jabbing a finger in his face. “You were there in the market, weren’t you? You heard what those two bitches said about me! How could you not, you… You meddling thief?” He rolled his eyes, taking a long drag on his cigarette, angling his lips so he wouldn’t blow smoke in her face.

“Yeah, and it’s stupid as fuck but that don’t mean you should give in to a pity party.” His tone was full of scorn. She bristled, hardly processing the familiar ache that indicated the void was rising in response to her anger. The whispers she was able to keep at bay out of sheer force of will leapt at her weakened mind, doubling down on her insecurities. She felt a sharp pain as the scar on her face cracked as extended down past her chin and onto her neck. She gasped, clutching at it’s uncontrollable movements. Sev merely looked at her, tapping his cigarette, his arms crossed, waiting for her to get herself under control. It was only then she realized she had been wrapped in smoky tendrils of void energy, her grey skin tinged with the violet hue of entropic decay. Snarling, she forced the energies away, shunting them off into the abyss where they belonged. 

“And what would you know? You’re so normal looking it hurts.” He scoffed, pulling out another cigarette, offering it to her. She declined with a sniff and a cutting swipe of her hand. “Besides all that metal you insist on stuffing your face with.”

“Now you’re just being petty. Doesn’t suit you at all.” He tapped the cigarette back into the pack and threw it and the book of matches onto the counter. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his face ladened with disapproval. “Don’t take this out on me.”

“Oh, I’m petty, is that it? Is that what you really think of me?” He advanced on her, leaning down until the ember dangled mere inches from her good eye. The acrid smoke and heat burned her nose, but she held her ground. Her heart skipped a beat at the anger she saw hidden in his face. He stared her down, removing the cigarette from his lips to ask quietly,

“What do you want me to do, Lyra? Go murder everyone who looks at you funny? Rob them of their treasures? Be a weapon of vengeance at your beck and call?”

“What? No.” Her anger gave way to genuine shock. She stared at him, aghast that he could even suggest such a thing. He shrugged, straightening up and placing the cigarette to his lips for a final drag before flicking it into the sink.

“You wouldn’t be the first well-to-do person to try to keep a pet thief.” His voice and face were carefully neutral. Too neutral. She realized too late that she was on dangerous ground. She had gravely miscalculated, treating him the same way she would Tyr. But Sev, cold, calculating, distant Sev, was not his lighthearted lover. He was an entity unto himself.

“Excuse me?” She hated that her voice squeaked with rage. “Is that what you think this is about? That I am… Keeping you? Or Tyr? That I am using you? If that’s what you think, then you can get the hell out of my house and my life and never come back.” So deep was her hurt, she nearly missed the slight crinkling around his eyes that indicated that she had amused him. When he realized she had caught it, his lips quirked into a small smile. She sputtered, rocking back on her heels. “You’re mocking me!”

“Better to have you mad at something you can control than something you can’t.” 

“You… You... Asshole!”

“Damn straight.” He grinned suddenly, a rare sight for his face. “You’re fun when you’re mad. Can see why Tyr likes you so much.” Her heart fluttered slightly in her chest, making her look down. Though his words seemed light hearted, she could hear a slight warning there.

“Don’t bring Tyr into this.” The silence was deafening until she dared look up at him again. His grin was replaced by a cold, calculating look that she couldn’t identify. It was then she realized how dangerous this strong, silent man truly was. The realization was so shocking that she instinctively reached into her powers, preparing to summon her wrathguard. The slight flickering in his eyes showed her that he knew what she was doing, and already knew exactly what he needed to do to counter it. He was the superior force here, and they both knew it.

“Why not? You’re bringing him into your life enough.” His voice was deadly calm, it’s icy edge cutting her to the quick. “I’ve a right to know.” She swallowed, releasing her power. The tension in his body relaxed slightly as the fel energies dissipated, though he kept his eyes fixated upon hers. She slumped, wrapping her arms around her midsection.

“You’re right. You have every right to know. I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from me in that regard. I would never interfere with your relationship.” She said quietly, her voice seeming to echo in the silence of the room. They stared at one another for a long moment before he grunted,

“Enlighten me.” She shifted, leaving him to once again sit on the edge of the couch. She breathed in the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, looking toward the journal that sat on the mantle of her fireplace. It contained what little she could remember of her past life, a mere handful of lines on creamy vellum wrapped in a rich mahogany leather binding. Months of not knowing, of lingering memories, scrawled on a single page of paper. The thought of it made her voice crack when she finally responded.

“You know why.”

“Tell me again. I need to hear it from you.” The floor vibrated slightly as he approached, the only sign of his otherwise silent passing. He sat on the other couch, leaning towards her, his face intent on her own. Even sitting, he was nearly taller than her. Intimidated, she rose and began pacing again, this time more slowly, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. She paused, flicking a petal of a flower in a vase next to him, gathering her thoughts.

“There are very few things I can remember about my past, Sev,” she said, haltingly, the tips of her fingers trailing along the edge of the petals. Her voice cracked with different emotions now. Sadness, shame, and no small amount of guilt for making him worry. “The only memory I had until recently wasn’t even a memory at all. It was… A feeling. A sensation of…. Love. From whom, or what, I don’t know, but… It’s all I have.” She looked at him, her eyes bleak. 

“I fear… I fear if I allow myself to love too deeply, I will lose that connection with my past. It is all I have of myself.” They sat in silence for a while while she gathered her courage to continue. “I may come to love Tyr, but I will not fall in love with him. You have nothing to fear from me in that regard. I will never love like that again if I can help it, and even if I did, I would never dare be a homewrecker.”

“Aye. If you ever tried, you’d be six feet under.” He rose and approached her, his expression oddly soft. “We’re good, Lyra. You’ve nothing to worry about from us, either. Just needed to be sure where we stand.” He nodded in her direction, his eyes once more crinkled with amusement. “Besides, I gotta brother. You ever feel the need to, whatever, I’ll bring him along. The experience would perk up both of your days.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” She laughed suddenly, overwhelmed by the sudden changes of emotions. She felt oddly at peace after her outburst. She sniffed and pulled a lace edged handkerchief from a hidden pocket in her skirt, wiping her eyes. He awkwardly touched her arm, an odd expression on his face.

“And hey, that shit about you not being pretty? It is bullshit. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” She stared at him, unsure of how to respond, the handkerchief lightly resting under her blind eye.

“Now you’re just flattering me.” Her tone was slightly mocking as she wrestled with disbelief. Tyr flirted openly with her, that much was so, but Sev? He didn’t seem the type.

“Grew up in the dark of the night, Lyra. In the shadows. There are nights the sky is so full of stars it seems like they’ll stretch on for eternity.” He shrugged, looking off to the side. “Sure your eye and scar might be a little creepy to normal folk, but that’s what they look like to me. A field of stars.” She stared at him, unsure of what to say. He shifted awkwardly under her scrutinizing gaze. “Just what I think.”

“May… May I hug you?” She asked hesitantly. If it had been Tyr, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But she felt as if Sev had pulled the rug out from under her feet and no longer was certain where she stood with him. He had just seen a side of her she was not proud of, and yet, here he was, offering kind words to her nonetheless. He hesitated a moment, then shrugged, opening his arms.

“Sure.”

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, feeling him haltingly doing the same. She smiled, realizing she barely came halfway up his chest. It was brief, only a second or two before he stepped away, but she appreciated it all the same. Sev was not his more amiable partner, after all. She tilted her head back to look up into his face, showing him her pleasure at his brief acceptance.

“I don’t mind if, if you want to get, ya know. A little touchy feely.” He said gruffly. “Tyr gets lonely sometimes. He says it’s nice to just have someone there to lean on.”

“I understand. It is nice. I get lonely myself.” She stepped back, reaching up to tap his nose gently, startling him. “You’re always welcome to darken my doorstep. You, and Tyr both. And,” she added as an afterthought, a wicked glint in her eye, “Your brother, if you so choose to introduce me to him.” Sev grinned slowly, crossing his arms. 

“You’d eat him alive.”

“Little old me? Never.” She purred, fluttering her lashes at him flirtatiously. Sev chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he regarded her sudden change of demeanor.

“Shit.” He muttered. “You are dangerous, even with your face all puffy.” She swatted at him playfully, but laughed nonetheless, feeling more confident with him. He hesitantly reached out and patted her hair. “I’ll be going now. Just wanted to check in, have a chat. You good now?”

“Yes, I am. And thank you, for… For understanding. For caring.” He picked up his cigarettes and matchbook, looking at her from across the room. Though his words were soft, she could hear them as clear as day.

“You don’t seem to be the type to be looking for pity.” With a wink, he vanished into thin air, barely a hint of his passing rustling the curtains from the open window she was sure he had just climbed out of. She waited a moment until she knew he was gone before shutting it, staring out at the apple tree that bent gently with the wind. Another good man, she realized, though he hides it well. Humming slightly to herself to a barely remembered song, she turned and touched a hand to her scarred face.

“A field of stars,” she said softly, smiling to herself. She would carry his words in her heart forever.


End file.
